


Just until the sun rose

by TeamThor



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Bruce Banner Needs a Hug, Bruce Has Issues, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Everyone Needs A Hug, Hugs, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Thor (Marvel) Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 14:22:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18500788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamThor/pseuds/TeamThor
Summary: Bruce banner had never had a good relationship with alcohol. But Thor needs something to drown out the trauma of his past.





	Just until the sun rose

**Author's Note:**

> so I'm definitely thorbruce trash, and really need to do some cute fluff instead of all this angst. Still glad y'all like it though!

Bruce didn't have a good relationship with alcohol. The memories of his childhood still hurt, the stench of whiskey and beer still made his stomach turn and the hairs on the back of his neck raise.   
He knew it. The avengers knew it. And Thor definitely knew it. The two had often stayed up long into the night, talking for god knows how long until tears started falling about anything and everything. 

He supposed that was why he was so angry when Thor stumbled in one night, leaning heavily against the wall, carrying that smell with him.

"I ask you to do one thing, Thor. One." Bruce kept his distance, the risk of a 'code green' too great to even consider in their apartment.   
"The one rule I have, and you can't even follow that?" 

"I wasn't aware that I was being kept." Thor's voice never crept above talking volume, never loud enough to make Bruce flinch, instead it seemed he channeled his energy into pacing, or rather stumbling, around the living room, hands trying to find balance on any surface they could reach.   
"Is that why you keep me around? You want a nice Asgardian to be your- what, your exotic pet?" 

"Oh come on. Don't give me that. As someone who spent 2 freakin' years as a pet on an alien planet, I can assure you it's not that nice."

"That was Hulk." Thor folded his arms, staring at the ceiling, the ground, anywhere but Bruce.   
"Not you." 

"Yeah, well Hulk's pretty pissed at you, too." Bruce turned to face the window, running a hand over his face to try and quell the rapidly growing spots of green in his vision.   
"I have half a mind to let him out to shake some sense into you."

"Oh, come on Bruce. It was one time, I barely ever-"

"That's not the point!" Bruce finally turned, the volume of his own voice immediately being enough to make him wince.   
His chest ached with breaths that just weren't taking in enough oxygen. The walls felt like they were getting closer, and jesus even the feeling of his own clothes brushing against his skin was too much.   
It was all too much.   
"The point is...you know what the point is."

Thor stopped pacing, looking at Bruce with a sudden clarity. His eyebrows furrowed in concern, and gradually brought himself to a standstill. Shifting from foot to foot, like he wasn't exactly sure where to go.   
"Bruce..." His next few words were careful, chosen with a specific slowness. "You know I would never hurt you, right? No matter the state I was in. I'd rather I die before my hand fell anywhere near you." 

Bruce's posture relaxed slightly, although nowhere near as relaxed as he wanted to be.   
"I know." He said, a little stiffly. Too stiff. He caught Thor flinch out of the corner of his eye. 

Despite the smell of whiskey lingering on his breath, Thor's voice was still so quiet, his words coming out in hushed mumbles that was so terrifyingly different to anything Bruce had heard before. He'd expected yelling, cruel words, loud laughter that stung his ears. Not these barely legible mutters, spoken from a man who looked like he was barely managing to stand up. 

Thor ran his hand over his face, regret stinging in his eyes as he made his way around him, heading over to the kitchen sink.   
"Bruce, 'm sorry, okay? I just-"   
He sighed, staring blankly ahead at the wall in front, looking like he was about a minute away from collapse.   
"It was the only way to make them stop."

Bruce was about to retort, tasting the sharp words on his tongue, but something stopped him. Maybe it was Thor's voice, the uncharacteristic smoothness failing to blunt the impact of his words. Or maybe it was his posture, the strong, regal stance he usually adopted reducing to a half crumpled state, relying entirely on the kitchen counter to keep him upright. 

Bruce ventured forward slowly, enough to make his presence known, at least.   
"Who's 'them', Thor?" 

The way Thor's shoulders tensed at the question led Bruce to believe he wasn't as drunk as he was trying to convey. It was instant, his form freezing, like he was a child who had just dropped a dinner plate and was hoping that being still would somehow camouflage the damage done. 

"It's nothing." He whispered, shaking his head. "It's no one." 

"Thor." Bruce was insistent now, he was worried. He kept moving forward until he was just behind Thor, placing his hand on the Gods warm shoulder. 

"Bruce, please-"

"Tell me." 

Another sigh followed, this one more like a deep groaning than the hurried confession prior. This one was a sound of exhaustion that clung to the bones themselves, a feeling of just being so tired that he didn't even know how to object anymore.   
His shoulders sank, and he twisted away from Bruce's touch. 

"The ghosts. Of Loki, of Heimdall, of everyone." He swallowed, nervously, as if expecting to be scolded. "They don't stop, Bruce. I just see them all the time. And I thought they'd go away if I just..."   
He shrugged his heavy shoulders, sinking with an abrupt suddenness down until he was sitting on the kitchen floor, resting his forehead against the cabinet.   
"Doesn't matter. It didn't work. It just made you sad." 

Bruce didn't quite know what to say. The feeling of unease hadn't stopped twisting in his gut, coiling and writhing ever since the sharp smell of whiskey on breath began to burn at his nose.   
So, he didn't say anything.   
Bruce moved to the floor, the sharp corners of the kitchen cabinet digging into his back, and held Thor's hand with a tightness that he hoped would convey all the words he couldn't say. 

And Thor held back, the air of tension between them lifting with a comforting squeeze of the fingers. The silence wasn't deafening anymore, it was sheltering. The safe kind of quiet that exists behind closed doors, where the world outside was muffled by blankets and warm cups of cocoa. 

"I'm sorry." Bruce finally managed to squeeze out, lifting his free hand to run through Thor's hair. When exactly the God had made the move from sitting to laying square in Bruce's lap, he really couldn't say. He could only say that he was grateful for the comforting weight that now lay on his legs. 

"Don't." Thor mumbled into his thigh, face turned away from the dim light of the kitchen like it was the sun itself. "It's my fault. I betrayed you. You have every right to be angry." 

Bruce lowered his head at that, a small chuckle escaping from his lips despite where his hand was pressed against it to muffle them.

Thor shifted, tilting his head to look up at Bruce with barely conscious offence.   
"You're mocking me?" 

"No, Thor, it's just-"  
Bruce cut himself off, suddenly unsure.   
What was it?   
Because this had hurt him. The memories, however far away they were, still seemed to lurk just beneath the surface.   
Maybe it was the fact that Thor, who'd been stabbed, electrocuted, and tossed around, was wailing into his lap as if he'd committed an act of treason.   
Maybe it was the twisted irony. Both of them trying to drown out their pasts, yet every attempt only served to stir the memories of the other. 

Bruce sighed, holding Thor just that little bit tighter.   
"Why didn't you say something? I mean, I know my conversational skills aren't great, but I didn't think you'd prefer to pass out in a gutter rather than talk to me."

Thor's hand weakly swatted at him in protest, although the alcohol had clearly gotten to his aim, as his hand met the hard stone of the counter instead of Bruce's shoulder.   
Thor yelped, nursing his injury, but pressing himself closer to Bruce's side.   
"It's not you, Bruce. I just...I was ashamed. I didn't want to burden you, and now look at what happened."   
He pushed himself onto his hands and knees, nose almost brushing Bruce's.   
"You're perfect, Bruce. I should've spoken to you." 

Bruce blinked, raising an eyebrow slowly.   
"That was remarkably easy. Are you actually going to follow through on that promise or are you just saying it to shut me up?"

Thor clumsily leaned forward, pressing his lips against Bruce's forehead in a kiss that was surprisingly tender.   
"I swear it. No more secrets."

Bruce took a steadying breath, as his world finally began to come back together.  
"Great." He forced out a whisper, trying to force back the tightness in his throat that he hadn't realised was there. He cleared his throat, shifting to his feet, and extending his hand down to Thor.   
"Now, come on. Let's get you to bed."

Thor's face lit up in another beaten smile as he took his hand, although it was quick to turn to horror when Bruce set him down on the sofa. 

"You are mad at me" Thor grumbled his discontent, although didn't seem to mind the amount of blankets Bruce was piling on top of him.  
"You're putting me on the sofa. I'm in the house of dogs.

"That's the doghouse, Thor. And you're not in there." Bruce propped another pillow under the gods head, meeting his tired eyes with a weak smile. "I just don't want you throwing up on me during the night." 

"Cruel, but fair." Thor's eye glinted up at him from beneath one of the more fluffy blankets, his hand peeking out and grabbing at Bruce's wrist.   
"I am truly sorry for my actions, beloved. It won't happen again, I swear on my honour." 

"How are you more Shakespearean drunk than you are sober?" Bruce tutted, shaking his head with a worn smile. He gently set Thor's hand back down on the sofa, leaning over to press a kiss onto the forehead that still burned with that reassuring heat that always seemed to follow the God around.   
"It's fine, Thor. Really. Just next time, talk to me, okay?"

Thor nodded from beneath the pile. "Okay. Goodnight, Bruce."

"Night, Thor." He pressed his hand in a final gesture against where he guessed Thor's side was, and then headed into the bedroom. 

Their bedroom. 

Bruce hadn't expected to sleep well that night, because, well, when did he sleep well? Years of all night science experiments fuelled by coffee and rage induced adrenaline had certainly done a number on his sleeping schedule.   
But still, something felt wrong. The bed was too wide, too cold, the room itself too silent even with the sounds of distant traffic coming through the window.   
He didn't need 7 PhD's to figure it out. The last year of his life the bed had never been cold. His room had always been filled with the sound of snoring, or rain, or random snatches of Asgardian mumbled in sleep. 

He swung his feet back over the side of the bed after 3 hours of unsuccessful tossing and turning, draping a blanket over his shoulders as he paused at the doorway to the living room, casting one last glance at the bed behind him.  
He moved on, with a small shake of his head. 

Neither of them should be alone, not tonight, anyway. 

Besides, he'd definitely risk being thrown up on to see Thor's face brighten in a sleepy smile when Bruce scooted in beside him, burrowing under the blankets.   
They'd need to talk in the morning. It'd be painful, but it had to be done. The wounds hadn't healed, not completely.   
But they could ignore the past, just for now. 

Just until the sun rose.


End file.
